


May All of the Dark Deep Inside You Find Light Again

by MyFishie



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Backstory, F/M, I Don't Even Know, Just the shit I think about when i think about my character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-19
Updated: 2019-11-21
Packaged: 2021-02-13 13:06:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21494779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyFishie/pseuds/MyFishie
Summary: Everyone has a past, experiences that shape who they are. Whether good or ill, in service or in spite of, they define you. Love, cruelty, empathy, heartbreak - they all play parts in your tapestry.Sethewain knows all too well how the fates can give joy, and take it away. These moments, great or small or in between, have shaped her. For good, or ill.
Relationships: Alphinaud Leveilleur/Warrior of Light, Aymeric de Borel/Warrior of Light, G'raha Tia | Crystal Exarch/Warrior of Light, Haurchefant Greystone/Warrior of Light, Hien Rijin & Warrior of Light, Magnai Oronir/Warrior of Light, Solus zos Galvus | Emet-Selch & Warrior of Light, Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV) & Everyone, Zenos yae Galvus/Warrior of Light
Kudos: 18





	1. 1. Prelude / The Dying of the Light

**Author's Note:**

> Just a series of stories that make up the history and experiences of my character in the game. They aren't in chronological order, but they are at important parts of her life - some in game and some not.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Every moment since has been simply trying to not lose herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This first one takes place like... immediately before you pick up the very first quest in Shadowbringers.

Pain. Panic.

She could hear the blood rushing in her ears, in time with the blood seeping from his body. Her hands and clothes were soaked deep crimson as she pressed her dress as hard as she could into the wound, eyes blurry with tears. The sensations in her fingers long since lost in the cold night air. She could hear her voice, distant, begging, but nothing answered her pleas.

His hand reached up to cup her cheek, like he had when she was still a young girl and had cried when she skinned her knees, or when the other children made fun of her eyes, or ears, or tail. Even as he lay there, dying, he would wipe the tears from her face. He would try to comfort her and protect her. "That is what brothers do," he used to say. "You are mine to protect, little lion. And I will do so all of my life." She never imagined it would be so soon. Never imagined it would be like _ this _.

There is a smell fear gives off; indescribable in how it permeates everything when it is in the air. Heavy, as if it is the only thing left; overbearing in its intensity, isolating you from your surroundings, in turn further feeding the stench. Her brother, lying in his own life blood, used to smell like firewood, and earth and warmth. Now it was the metallic scent of fresh blood so thick you could taste it, and fear. His fear or her own she couldn't say. He didn't look afraid. He seemed serene as he looked into her eyes, his breath growing more shallow every passing moment.

"Little lion. Be brave. You are so much stronger than you think," he said, his breath laboured and harsh. He took his free hand and put something in one of hers, squeezing tightly. "Now run, and never look back. I love you, W'ynne." Distant shouting could be heard, no more than a malm behind them. Twigs snapping and leaves rustling as the sounds grew ever closer, but her eyes never left his wound, her head shaking back and forth.

"No. No I can't... I **won't** … You said together. _ Together _…" tears springing free, sobs wracking her body. "Y-you p-promised to keep me s-safe…"

"I know, little lion, I know. I am. I am trying to," his thumb stroking her cheek lovingly, soothing her. "But I need you to run now. I'll do what I can to buy you time but please _ do as I ask _ and run!" His face still wore a small smile, but his eyes looked how she felt as the sounds grew closer every passing second. Scared, sad, with unshed tears.

She had never seen him look at her like this. She lifted her hand to hold the one against her cheek, committing to memory the feel of his rough, calloused hands on her skin. She kissed his palm one final time before the sound of metal weapons clanking against each other startled her. He gave her a gentle push away from him.

"Please…" he begged. So she did. The last she saw of her elder brother was his silhouette leaning against a tree, axe too large to be effectively wielded in one hand as torches broke through the thick, black night.

\---

Sethewain bolted up in bed, her body drenched in a cold sweat, and her heart racing faster than it had in any battle she had faced in years.

"Seven hells..." she groaned pinching the bridge of her nose and swinging her legs over the side of her bed. It took a few moments for her to be confident enough in her legs to support her weight and make her way to her washbasin on the other side of her bed chamber. Looking at her reflection in the glass nearby, she could see the dark circles under her eyes aging her past her 23 years, her skin red and tear stained. It had been so long since she had the memories... "Nightmares," she corrected herself. "From a lifetime long since passed."

Her gaze drifted down, to the simple bone ring - etchings on it long since worn down from her touch - that hung on a long platinum chain around her neck. Her right hand absentmindedly coming up to grab hold of it, running her thumb over the band in familiar motions, as she took a deep breath in through her nose, and exhaling slowly from her mouth. "Today is not the day to lose yourself. There is too much to do. Too much at stake to buckle now."

She closed her eyes and steeled herself, pulling her shoulders back to stand tall and confident. "The Warrior of Light," she muttered to herself. When she opened her eyes to look at herself once more, her white eyes gave no mention to her inner self doubt, or her worries. She couldn't afford them. W'ynne had died all those long years ago, with her brother amongst those trees. She would not allow herself to go back to that person. To dishonor W'aine with her fears and weaknesses.

Now, it was time to dress, and make her way to Revenant's Toll. There was business that needs doing. Friends that needed saving. Or by the Twelve she would die trying.

  
  
  



	2. A Knight's Calling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sethewain races to the end of The Vault, hoping she isn't too late.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoilers for the Heavensward MSQ. 
> 
> Sorry not sorry.
> 
> In the memories she is 8, then 6 years old, respectively (just for context)

Tears streamed down W'ynne's face as she ran on unsteady legs though the dense woods, until she reached her tree. Her hand reached out to trace the rough, familiar pattern in the bark of the trunk as she panted trying to catch her breath.

"It's the biggest one on the whole forest you know," W'aine had told her when he had taken her here for the first time years go, carrying her on his back. "Maybe even the _ whole world. _" Her laughter was like bells ringing out clear and cheerful.

"You're making that up. You haven't even left our territory yet! How are you so sure it is the biggest in the whole wide world?" her short arms letting loose her grip from around his neck enough for her to lean back and gaze up at the deep green canopy.

"Oh, that's easy. _ I've _climbed aaaaalllll the way to the top!" he said, spinning on the spot, which caused even more laughter.

"REALLY!?" W'ynne's eyes grew wide in amazement, as she eyed her brother, and then the trunk of the massive tree before them.

He knelt down so she could stand on her own, before turning to place a hand on the top of her head. "Have I ever lied to you little lion? Why would I start now, over something so easy as climbing a tree?" He laughed, deep and strong, at the pout that emerged on her face.

"I'm not little!" she said, stomping one of her feet in defiance.

"Oh but sister, you will always be my little lion. The most fierce and brave one I have ever had the misfortune to cross, at that." At that she huffed, but didn’t have any of the passion behind it that she previously had. "So, my brave little lion. Ready to learn to climb?"

She remembered that day's every detail. It had been a few years since that first lesson, and she was a much better climber than she used to be. Even blind with tears and battered and bruised she could make it to at least the lowest level of the thick branches. She sat there, pulling shards of glass and rock from her skin and massaging tender circles along her tail where the other children had pulled and bent it in unnatural angles.

When she heard the snap of twigs underneath her, and pulled herself as flush to the trunk of the tree as she could, pulling her legs to her chest, trying to quiet her sobs.

"You think you can hide from your own kin little lion? I am the one who taught you how to balance there, you would do well to remember." W'aine called from the ground. She stayed silent, cheeks burning with shame.

"So, this is how you would have it, hm? Fine then." She heard his running start as he took two large steps up the trunk and began his own climb. It took him no real effort on his part, as his arms were stronger than hers, and his legs much longer. He heaved himself up onto the same branch she sat on, swinging a leg on either side, facing her as she sat at the base.

The look on his face as a mixture of concern, and anger as he took in the sight of her. A black eye had started to show, and her lip was crusted with dried blood and dirt, her hair was matted, her clothing torn, her legs cut and bruised. "Again? I thought you said they weren't bothering you anymore."

"They stopped… for a while." she said, easing her legs to either wide of the branch to mimic him and began picking at the bark nervously.

"You said you would come to me if they started up again." he said tenderly as he pulled the waterskin from his hip. He cleaned the gashes on her hands, then ripped a piece of cloth he pulled from his pocket and wrapped them.

"I can take it." W'ynne said defiantly, and pulled away as he wet another patch of cloth and tried to clean the dried blood from her nose and mouth.

"I am well aware of how strong you are, but that doesn’t mean you should _have_ to take it. I am your elder brother. It is my job to make sure you don’t have to get hurt if I can do anything to prevent it. Just like it is _your_ job as the smarter of the two of us to stop me from doing stupid things." He held her chin between his finger and thumb, lifting her gaze to meet his. "We are a team little lion. You and me, against the whole world if needs be. That is what family means W'ynne. You protect the ones you love, with everything you are. With everything you have."

She couldn’t help it. Her smile turned her traitor. ".. Then why do I have the harder task of the two of us?"

He laughed, big and loud and joyful. She loved his laugh. "Aye, that you do…" he paused leaning in again. "Why do you think I am so glad you are my sister?"

\---

Charibert knelt on the ground, panting.

"Our power… How could this be!?" he exclaimed as he looked incredulously at the Miqo'te woman who stood across the terrace from him, triumphant.

Behind the loser, up a set of cathedral stairs two large doors opened. Sethewain squinted against the distance and recognized the man who opened it, tensing her jaw. Zephirin.

"Fall back!" he shouted at the defeated Charibert as he stood, then turned and hastily ran up the steps as an airship flew overhead. Panic seized Seth's chest as she watched an airship fly to the opposite side of the building; on their own, her legs carried her in pursuit.

She broke through the doors on the other end of the tower, slowing to a stop as she watched the airship land and the Archbishop accompanied by Charibert prepare to board. _ But where was Zephirin… _

She didn’t have very long to think on that as the rest of her companions - Haurchefant, Lucia and Estinien - walked through the doorway. Aymeric, still injured was leading them. _ He shouldn’t be doing this. _ She thought to herself. _ I should be protecting him. _

"Father, please!" she heard him call out, resisting the urge to reach out and help him. Archbishop Thordan and Charibert were already boarding. She swore under her breath, as she held her place on his left, and looked to Haurchefant, mirroring her on his right. He looked down at her with a wink and a smirk, and she felt her skin flush. He never failed to make her feel like a girl, all butterflies and nerves. But this wasn’t the time for such things. _ Business first, flirting after we've won. _

"We were not too late, my friend!" he exclaimed with a small smile, his eyes filled with total confidence in her, in what they could accomplish - together. She nodded at him, turning her head back to lock her gaze onto the Archbishop.

"Why must you do this, Father!?" Aymeric cried out, holding his left arm as it hung limp at his side. Seth made a mental note to check on him as soon as this was over. "Nidhogg is fallen! There is no need for further deception! Now is the time to renounce the lies which led us down this path - to start anew!" The hope in his voice - in what he was saying, in that his father would listen to reason, stung. She wanted so badly for Thordan to listen, if only for Aymeric's sake.

"And tear down the very pillars of our society - our history, our values - everything we have built over a thousand years?" she heard the old Archbishop sigh. "A fool to the last."

Haurchefant and Sethewain exchanged quick glances. As her eyes lifted to meet his, he nodded, knowing what she was thinking as it came into her mind, and they both broke into a run simultaneously toward the ship. She was faster than he was, even if only slightly, her mouth set in a determined line. They were not about to let him escape - not from Aymeric and not from them. She was halfway to the ship when she heard Haurchefant shout, "Look out!"

She turned and saw a spear of light headed right for her, and she had no time to move out of the way and no means to deflect it. She could see Zephirin standing off in the background for a brief moment, and then he disappeared._ The bastard _. On instinct she brought her arms up to cover her face and waited for the searing pain to begin, that didn’t. She opened her eyes in surprise, then fear as she saw Haurchfant, shield drawn, covering her. Time seemed to slow, and the spear of light bore down into the shield. It wouldn’t hold, she knew it. It wasn’t a magic shield, it could do nothing to stop the pure power of the attack, but gods did she hope, just this once, that she was wrong.

That hope did not last long. The spear of light pierced the shield, and then her friend, with a sickening squelch. He fell backwards, body limp as she reached out for him. The world went silent, as her horrified screams ripped through the evening air.

She could hear the Archbishop give the instructions to head to Azys Lla, but she couldn’t bring herself to care about that right now. She had to stop the bleeding. She had to mend the wound. She** had to save him**. But she felt as helpless, kneeling beside him now, as she had when it was another man, in another place, long ago. 

"Lord Haurchefant!" she could hear Aymeric call out, his voice reflecting the agony her heart felt.

_ No, not again. No no no no no… _ her shaking hands were hovering over his chest where there was a large hole straight through him. _ It's too big… I can't… Please… please do not take him from me too. _

Aymeric was suddenly kneeling on the other side of him. _ How did he get here so fast? Or was it not fast. Oh gods no… _ her cheeks were wet and hot, she hadn't even noticed she was crying… He pulled Haurchefant up, supporting his neck with one arm and used his lap to prop him up into a more comfortable position. _ If such a thing were possible… _

"You… you are unharmed? F-forgive me… I could not bear the thought of… of…" Haurchefant's voice was weak, but even so, when he looked at her she could fly. Her pulse quickened and her skin flushed. She swore he found some sick pleasure in reducing her to a mere maiden with a simple glance, or innocent touch. But this... this one felt different. More. Like all the things he wanted to say, but never found the right time to. Like stolen kisses that tasted of hot chocolate in the shadows by the fire. Of heated caresses on soft furs behind locked doors. Of tender words whispered to no one else but her. Of promises to keep her happy, so long as she would have him do so… Oh gods she would have had him do so for all eternity if it had been allowed of her.

He raised his right hand, reaching out to her, and she all but lunged forward to take it. Sobs shook her whole body as she leaned forward to press her forehead to his fingers, then pressed her lips to kiss them, and caught his eyes again. "Oh, do not look at me so." he wheezed a laugh and the smallest smile on his lips stained red with blood. "A smile better suits a h-hero." he managed to say, his own smile growing wider.

How could she deny him this? She thought of all the things they might have been able to do together. Hot kisses on cold nights. Him telling her he loved her when he thought she was asleep. Him asking for her hand, to be joined under the Twelve. Her giving him a family one day. And a thousand thousand more moments both large and small that would have made up their lives together. She would have been happy. They would have been happy.

She raised his hand to hold her cheek as her smile overtook her face, still set with tears. She held it, until his final breath left him. Only then did her smile turn to grimace, throwing her arms around his neck. Only then did she cry out in sorrow and she felt the pain of the spear as if it had truly hit it's intended mark.

  
  



	3. Heavensward

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grief weighs heavy, and doing it alone doesn't make you strong. Sometimes, letting love back in after being broken is the true test of strength.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vaguely implying bad people wanting to do bad things, but nothing graphic, promise.

She was terrible at this. She couldn't hit a target if she stood directly in front of one. She was too clumsy to hold on to a dagger for very long, having almost lost toes to it on more than one occasion. Swords were not much better. Axes were too heavy. She couldn't figure out how to use the lance...

"Ugh!" She groaned loudly in frustration, throwing her bow to the ground. It sunk into the lush grass without so much as a satisfying thump. "This is pointless! I can't do anything well enough to not hurt myself or someone else with it." She dug her fingers into her hair and threw her head forward until it collided with the firm muscle of W'aine's chest.

"Not with an attitude like that, you won't," he tried in vain to suppress a chuckle. W'ynne shot him a glare, and he clutched his chest as if he had been struck. "Little lion if your looks shot blades I would say we found your proficiency."

"You're the worst and I hate you," She muttered as she put a palm to his chest and gave a hard shove.

"Oh but I love you so much!" Before she knew what was happening he had her over his shoulder and began to spin.

"Stop this I am not ten years old anymore!" Her fists beating pointlessly against his back

"Oh fourteen is not much older than ten really..." he said putting her feet back on the ground before leaning over and pouting. "Besides, I won't be able to do it for much longer. You will be a woman grown sooner than you would think, and I won't be able to lift you quite so easily."

"Liar. You're the strongest in the clan. You could lift any one." W'ynne stated a little too matter of factly based on the sour face her brother made in response.

"Best to keep that opinion to yourself little lion. W'thlam doesn't take too kindly those who might challenge him, as you well know." His voice hard but quiet as he scanned the tree line of the clearing they stood in before looking back at her, warning her to take care. He pulled her close, her head coming to rest on his chest, stroking her hair as his voice began to sound distant despite proximity. "My only concern now is you little lion. So long as you are safe, then it matters not how strong I may or may not be. There are more valuable skills to possess besides."

"So you keep saying and yet from all I have seen none of your platitudes seem to help me any.."

"You cannot seriously believe -" W'aine began to speak, his brow creasing and his eyes tender, but immediately silenced himself and his ears and gaze snapping in the direction of the sound of branches snapping and leaves rustling behind them. He lifted his axe from his back with one arm and used the other to position W'ynne behind him and he turned to face the ones who entered the clearing.

She felt his whole body tense, battle ready when they heard the voices call out to them. W'ynne didn't recognize them but it seemed W'aine did. She peaked around her brother at the three men who stood before him. She knew their faces. They were W'thlam's grunts, the clans Tia’s. She didn't know much about them. Only that they were the only other males in the clan of over one hundred - besides W’thlam and her brother, and whenever they were around W'aine seemed to grow extra still and always seemed to make sure he was between her and them at all times.

"Getting in a little work out, W'aine?" The one in front was speaking. The other two behind him elbowed each other back and forth.

"Just getting my sister to practice weapons training. Seeing what she is most comfortable wielding on hunts, W'stil." She was in shock. She had never heard her brother say a name like that. He practically spat it out, as if it were a bitter poison on his tongue.

"I see I see..." the man - W'stil - said stroking his chin. His eyes darted to meet hers and she immediately moved to hide her face in her brothers back again. She could hear the soft squeak of his leather glove tightening on the handle of the axe propped on his shoulder. "Doesn't she know it is rude not to say hello to her betters? Especially when now is the perfect time to be... making a **good impression** on the right people?"

The way he said those words made her skin crawl though she knew not why. They didn't seem to sit well with W'aine either as she could feel him practically vibrating where he stood.

"I would watch my tongue if I were you W'stil. Would hate for you to lose that lovely singing voice of yours."

"Are you threatening me?" He said, as his lackeys finally stopped hitting each other and started eyeing up her brother.

"Not at all, but you did wander into the middle of a training session with a young student who still hasn't yet learned to keep full grip on a blade. Would hate for there to be an... **unfortunate accident**."

He again made eye contact with W'ynne when she risked another glance around her brothers body, and the look he gave sent shivers down her spine. Cold, and detatched, with something darker beneath she could not place, save to know she had never seen it on her brother. "Oh I am sure one of us could teach her how to grip a blade just fine, eh boys...."

Now W'aine took a step forward and the other three men scrambled backwards. "Leave. Now. Or I swear by the Twelve, you won't be leaving at all." He lifted and readied his axe as he spoke, and the two who's names she didn’t know grabbed W'stil's shoulders and started to back away quickly.

"You'll regret this, mongrel!" W'stil said, spitting at her brother and missing, getting more on himself than the ground. W'aine's eyes never left them, and he didn't move a muscle until all three had disappeared from sight and their footsteps out of earshot.

He dropped his axe and spun around to look at her, kneeling. Concern in his eyes, comforting and steady even if his hands shook like leaves in the autumn winds. He cupped her face and smoothed her hair, inspecting her for damage that they both knew was not there. He seemed to need to do it more for his own sake than hers…

W’ynne took his hands in hers and held them together against her chest tightly. “I have never seen that look on your face before. It was scary. You looked like you wanted to kill them…”  
  
“I would have, little lion.” he responded slowly, his voice laced with both fear and resolve. “I would have killed them and not even thought twice of it.”  
  
“That isn’t like you…”  
  
“When it comes to your life - your safety? It very much is.” His mouth a hard line on his face, his eyes boring into hers intensely, and she knew that what he said was true.

"They..." she said softly after a pregnant pause, "are not good people... are they?"

"No little lion. They most definitely are not."

"I don't think I like them..." she said, eyes drifting to the spot in the tree line they disappeared into. W'aine’s head came down to rest on her shoulder, as let out a chuckle that sounded foreign - dry, harsh and empty and wholly unlike him.

"Always were the smart one, you. That head of yours is going to save you one day. But for my own peace of mind, let's get you practicing with steel again. Just so your poor big brother can rest a little easier eh?"

\---

Sethewain should have been used to it by now. She had made a fairly large name for herself: joining the Scions, stopping the evil Garlean Empire from their plans at total Eorzean domination, ended a war that spanned generations. She was on fairly amicable terms with all the major leaders of the Alliance. She had battled Primals and won for spirits sake. No one else could even touch that as far as bragging rights went. But even then, even now, she wasn't used to the attention at all.

The pickup lines were easy enough to tune out. Some she would even consider cute, when they came up to her all tongue tied and innocent. She did her best to stay friendly, to smile and let them know she thought they were very brave for being willing to put themselves out there. If they bought her a drink and they were kind she would buy them one back. She would even go so far to say she enjoyed these interactions. They felt at least genuine, which was harder to find than she had expected as time went on.

What she couldn't stand however, were the ones who came in already expecting her to pull up her skirts just because they looked at her with those disturbing leers, undressing her before they had even spoken to her. She would love nothing more than to bring their face into a hot skillet - if it was socially acceptable for heroes to do such things.

It was in the latter she found herself at the moment, as her elbows were on the bar of The Forgotten Knight, staring into her cup of mulled wine. It had been months since she had avenged Haurchefant. She had laid him to rest. She had wept more tears than she could count. She had mourned him for so long... His father and brothers had been gracious, but had expressed to her their worry; how they felt her wallowing in her misery was unhealthy. How he would have wanted, more than anything, for her to find joy in her life again.

"Revenge alone cannot sustain, child." Edmont had told her one night shortly after she had slain the primal Thordan had been born by sheer will alone. She was about to protest when a look from him silenced her. “It may have been justice once, but once you felled the former Archbishop do not do me the dishonour of lying to my face and telling me it is anything but revenge now.”

"I... I don't know if I know how to..." she couldn't finish the thought. She wasn't sure how to do anything anymore, how to be anything else now. After he had been taken from her she was broken, her sole purpose to crush his murders under her heel so they might feel a fraction of the pain she felt every day since.

"Oh sweet child... you don't need to have all the answers, despite how it might feel sometimes. I know how much pressure we all place on you. How much everyone places on your shoulders. It is unfair to ask so much of someone still so young." He pulled her against his chest tighter, and kissed the top of her head as tears sprung from her eyes. "But this," he said as he handed her a handkerchief to dry her eyes with. "All these tears you shed for him are not what he wanted. He wouldn't want you to lose yourself in your grief of him."

"I know that.... and I understand that I eventually must stop mourning. But every time I think about even considering it I feel so guilty. As if I am disrespecting him in some way. And I just couldn't bear the thought of ever..." Seth choked on her words. She couldn't even say them. _ Ever feeling like this over another person… I couldn’t survive this another time. _

"My friend, have I ever told you the first time I ever heard your name?" He asked her, pulling away from her enough to look at her face, as she shook her head. He brushed aside her tears with a thumb, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

"Haurchefant would make vague mention in his letters, of course. Never any specifics. I never even knew if you were a man or woman or dodo. No, in his letters it was usually all business. But, one day, business brought him to town and he started to speak of you, Sethewain. When your name fell on his lips it left him breathless, every time. The remarkable Miqo'te woman who put all his knights to shame. He would go on about your bravery and your strength; your intelligence and your unparalleled beauty. One night after drinking with Aymeric and Artoirel he said that the sun rose and set with your smile, and that if he could but have you smile for him just once he would die a happy man." He paused here and shifted so he was sitting on the table in front of her, taking her hands in his and looking into her eyes. 

"Do you know why I am telling you this, child?" She shook her head. "Because my son loved you with all his heart. And all he has ever wanted was for you to smile, and find joy in the world that you bring so much joy into. You, my dear sweet girl, are everything I could ever ask for in a daughter. You are more than I ever dared to expect but always in my heart wished for any of my sons to find in a love. You will always be as mine own, this will always be _ your home _. Nothing in your future will ever change that in my heart. So please, find yourself again. Only when you would deny the world your happiness, is when you truly will be disrespecting my son."

Sethewain let out the breath she didn't know she was holding as she looked up at the bartender. The older gentleman raised a brow to her, reaching for a bottle. She shook her head, and lifted her cup to her lips finishing it in a few gulps. Out of the corner of her eye she could feel a group of eyes on her. The bartender seemed to notice as well, because as he spoke to her gently his eyes were glued just past her, his face set in a hard expression. She had long ago learned it was often the best course of action to simply remove yourself for a situation like these, as quickly as possible.

She left a few gil on the bar as she slid off the stool and made her way for the stairs on legs less steady than she anticipated. _ Well there is a railing. If I go slow I should be fine. I think. _

She didn't get drunk often. There never seemed to be the time. A glass of wine with a meal was generally the most she ever consumed. Between stopping the primal threats, stopping the empire, fleeing for her life, stopping a war... sobriety always seemed like a necessity.

When she passed through the doors into the cold night air of Ishgard she didn't even shiver. She always shivered here. Maybe it was the wine but she felt so warm under her clothing. Uncomfortably so. She began pulling on her white and red coat in an attempt to unbutton it. It was one of her favourites, specially made for her use in battle. But gods it was well insulted. She made unsteady, uncoordinated steps until she reached the fountain a few yalms away. She sat down on the edge as she fought the fastenings on her clothing. _ I don't remember it being this hard to take off before, _she pouted to herself, her pink tongue poking out of her lips slightly in concentration.

With a very sloppy flourish, she raised the offending article above her head in victory.

"Well hello lovely, little warm tonight?" A voice rang out in the square. She jumped, not having hear anyone approaching. "Having some clothing struggles I see... we can help with that can't we lads." _ Oh wow there are lots of them. When did they all get here? _

"C'mere gorgeous, let us help you out, and then you can help us out eh?" The man speaking grabbed her arm and pulled her up, where she was quickly enclosed by the others. She turned her head to try and see how many there were, but she was having trouble keeping track. One hand touched her face, another the back of her neck, another two or maybe three…? were sliding up her dress. More still were pulling at her clothing from it felt like all directions...

"Gentlemen, and what pray tell is going on out here at this time of night? I suggest you take your party elsewh-" the sentence died midair. Suddenly the hands left her body. "By the Fury, what do you think you are doing!? Unhand her this instant or you won't have any hands left!"

Seth turned around trying to get her bearings, but everything was spinning. She lost her balance in the turn, and fell into something warm. Blue fabric over grey chainmail. She buried your nose and breath in deeply. Paper. Weapon oil. Ishgardian tea leaves. Oh she knows this smell! Would know this smell anywhere at this point. A smile breaks across Seth's face as she looks up to beam at Aymeric, his right hand with his sword drawn and his left around her to steady her swaying.

"The girl jus’was looking for a bit o'fun, that's all. She approached us. I mean look at her, pretty little thing how could we refuse?" The leader spoke.

"Are you alright, my friend? Did they harm you?" Concern knitted into his brows as he looked into your eyes.

"Aymeric, can you take me home? I'm… I’m very tired..."

"Get out of here, while I still have the mind to not kill you where you stand. Get on!" He shouted at them and she heard footsteps scatter in all directions away from them. He sat her down on the fountain ledge again while sheathed his sword and called for Lucia, saying something about extra guards to post in the square at night. Seth’s eyes had shut at some point since being seated, and she couldn't seem to get them to open again.

She felt his breath on her ear, a shocking contrast to the frigid night air. "Arm around my neck, don't let go." his voice commanding, but tender. He lifted her up with surprising ease, one arm under her knees, one on her back. Instinctively she turned her body towards his and rested her right hand on the junction of his neck and collar bone, while the left was behind his neck, absentmindedly playing with his hair.

"Thank you...." she murmured into his neck, her lips brushing his skin as she spoke. He make a hmm sound in acknowledgment, and she briefly wondered when the last time she felt this safe was, right before sleep claimed her.

\---

She was slow to regain consciousness. Everything felt so soft. The pillows, the sheets, the furs. Even the smell of the bed was soft, and earthy and comforting. _ Wait, what? _ Her room at Count Edmont's house always smelled like flowers.

Eye eyes shot open and she bolted upright in bed. This was not her room. Based on the colours of the wallpaper, this was not Fortemps Manor at all. It was not the rich crimson she had come to expect. Rather, a deep blue. Oh Fury where was she now?

She swung her legs over the side of the bed and noticed the bedclothes she was in. And that her own clothing was folded up neatly on a chair nearby, and her jewelry and accessories were on the nightstand bedside the bed.

She stood and dressed quickly, before quietly opening the door to the room. The sun was still low in the sky, from the looks of it from the window it was barely past dawn. She might be able to slip out unnoticed...

That plan went up in a pillar of flames as she entered the common room and made her way toward the main door. A cough echoed in the room and she squeaked and jumped dropping her boots, wincing as the loud slam they made as the sound echoed off the walls, shattering the silence entirely.

Sitting there in the light of dying embers of the hearth was Aymeric, his usual dress discarded for a large billowing linen shirt and trousers.

"Seven hells Aymeric you scared the Light out of me." She breathed out, bending down to pick up her dropped items.

"Apologies my friend, but I believe you startled me first. I am not accustomed to guests in my home, let alone ones who try to slink out at the crack of dawn." He replied, walking toward her with an easy swagger. "Why are you not still in bed? You have only been asleep for a few hours at most. You should rest more." His concern laced in every word as he came to stand before her and reached out to brush a stray hair from her face, before pulling back and averted his gaze abruptly.

"I could not take advantage of your hospitality, Aymeric." Sethewain said softly, guilt rising in her chest. He had done so much for her, since she - no, since **they** lost him. Haurchefant had been as important to Aymeric as he was to her, if not more so. They were all each other had, long before she was even a rumor on a report to either of them. He had stayed up with her for... countless nights in his office just to comfort her. To share stories and laughter and tears. She had leaned on him when she had no strength left for herself, after spending it all to reassure everyone else - looking to her for their own strength to carry on. She couldn't burden him more than she already had and still call herself a good friend to him.

"You could take advantage of me at any time, and I would accommodate you gladly." He whispered in a hushed tone stepping closer to her, before realizing what he had said and covering his eyes with his hand. "That is to say, my home is your home. There is no burden, no inconvenience that would be considered made for you to be here." He chanced a peek at her as he hand slid down his face to cover his mouth.

She smiled at him warmly. "Thank you, my friend." She couldn't help the blush that rose in her cheeks. She was no great fool. She knew how handsome the speaker for the House of Lords was. She would be lying to say she wasn't attracted to him. The contrast of his blue eyes and dark hair was enthralling. When he looked at her like he did now she could not deny the heat in his glances, or how the effect it had on her heart. "But I don't sleep much these days, as you well know." Though his mouth was still behind his hand she saw his brows knit giving away his obvious frown. "Perhaps some tea, though?" She offered in compromise. "I would enjoy the company... might be nice to..." her voice trailed off, her turn to avert her gaze, suddenly very embarrassed for offering him tea in his own home.

"Tea sounds perfect," his hand dropping from his face to offer to her, a wide smile that took over his whole face emerging. She couldn't help the feeling of nostalgia that washed over her. They shared no similarities in their physical features, to be sure. Aymeric was all elegance and propriety, not the good natured but slightly wild memory he brought to mind. However, the joy in his eyes, and the creases of his mouth when an uncontrolled smile took it over were identical to the ghosts of her past. She felt her heart beat, and for the first time in recent memory, it didn't hurt as much as the one before.


End file.
